Indignation
by Cairistona
Summary: Set between 'Tunnel Vision' and 'Triage,' this fic takes a look at Knockout's thoughts and actions as he returns to the ship after his run-in with the subway train and deals with facing the other Decepticons.


Hello! I've posted Transformers fanfiction before, but this will be my first for TF: Prime. :)

This fic is situated between the episodes of "Tunnel Vision" and "Triage." It mentions events from "Tunnel Vision," and it has one line from "Triage."

I've not decided yet whether it will be a one-shot or if I will continue it.

* * *

**Indignation**

He came driving back slowly through the ground bridge. He had entered it quickly, but now he decelerated to the point of sluggishness.

He generally liked to be seen. Well, no, that wasn't true. He _loved_ to be seen. He loved knowing that he was the most handsome Decepticon. He loved being the only one with a conspicuous paint job, one that screamed, "I'm glorious! Look at me!" He loved seeing the veiled looks of irritation reflected in his fine finish. He loved it that they were irritated with him, for they could do nothing about it. Ah, the control, the sense of power he had with being gorgeous. He could irk everybody under him and get away with it because it wasn't a crime to be as gorgeous as he was.

He also loved the superiority it brought. Yes, he was a ground-roller, but he was above all other ground-rollers, for he looked better than all of them put together. He stood apart. He was supreme.

Or…

He had been.

He had been, but he wasn't now, and that was why he was driving so slowly through the ground bridge.

He wasn't sure which hurt worse: his body or his pride. The pain-receptors throughout his form were throbbing. They had every right to. He was in a battered condition. He'd been sideswiped by a subway train and dragged across a wall, and then he'd been slammed into by that same subway train and rolled along the tracks in front of it until his body weight had slowed it to a stop. He hated subways.

The pain was bad, very bad, but it wasn't debilitating. The ego, however, was close to dying a horrible death and then coming back to haunt him for eternity.

His bright finish, every foot, every inch practically, of his armoring and being was scratched, scraped, or defaced to some degree or another. He looked horrible. His pride had been ground to bits by that train, and it was agony!

What would be worse, though, was the look those blasted Vehicons would get on their identical faces. They rather hated him, and he knew it. Thus, he knew too that they would be more than pleased to see him in this condition. They would be ecstatic.

And the slight derisive vibe that Soundwave would give off…

He shuddered. He had a mild horror of Soundwave. The silent empath gave him the creeps in the worst way.

And…

Oh, scrap…

Megatron.

He nearly came to a halt.

Megatron was going to humiliate him. Megatron was going to humiliate him and enjoy it, for Megatron enjoyed wielding his coveted power.

"Is there some malfunction?" A Vehicon called from the ship end of the bridge.

He hated Vehicons. Especially right now. He transformed.

"Of course there is, you idiot!" Knockout answered pettily as he strode into view. "Four of your fellow Vehicons can't stand against _two_ Autobots worth a scrap."

The Vehicon's face remained expressionless. "We never claimed to be _per_fect." His optics shifted behind his visor ever so slightly.

"Ghhh!" Knockout hated it when they were insolent but respectful enough to preserve themselves from a beating. "Don't stand there talking." He ordered testily. "Go send a cleanup crew to retrieve their worthless parts."

"Yes, Commander Knockout." The Vehicon answered, turning back to his console as Knockout stalked stiffly away to go to his personal quarters.

::Knockout.:: Megatron's voice sounded over his direct intercom.

'_Oh, Pit.' _Knockout thought as he continued towards his quarters. That Vehicon must have alerted the warlord of his return. ::Yes, Lord Megatron?:: he replied obsequiously.

::I trust you are coming to bring me a full report of the mission, along with the relic?::

Knockout silently cursed in irritation as he halted in the hallway. There was no way he could get out of this. No way he could even buff himself a bit or try to save a little face before going before an audience. Any delay would incur Megatron's ready wrath. Besides, it would take a good three hours at least before he would even look half presentable.

::What else would I do but bring you a report, my Liege?:: he asked lightly. ::As for the-:: he stopped as he realized that Megatron had closed the intercom line.

"Oh, but of course, he_ would_ cut me off." Knockout muttered. Megatron had no respect for him. '_Rude…_' He didn't mind overly, though. Megatron could be nasty over the intercom, and he never minded skipping out on nasty.

He turned and began trudging towards the bridge.

Lord Megatron awaited. His brutal audience.

He had to figure out how to make his entrance.

Up playing the fact that he'd been thrashed wouldn't help at all. It was already obvious. Megatron hated having the obvious repeated. And Megatron would sneer at him for getting thrashed by Autobots as it was; he need not draw extra attention to _that_.

Accentuating the fact that he was in pain would certainly not help either. Megatron seemed to rather relish others' pain, especially if he thought that it was deserved. Given his earlier words, the warlord would no doubt think this pain was much deserved. It would be best to cover up the fact that he was sore from the subway mauling.

He couldn't help but limp, though. Well, it wasn't so much 'limp' as it was 'walk stiffly.' Each step was rather uncomfortable. He hoped the Lord of the Decepticons would be content with just abusing him verbally; he doubted he'd hold out well under a beating. And Megatron could give a beating, he knew. Starscream… it had taken him how long to patch up Starscream after Megatron's thrashing? And still the Seeker's arm had fallen off.

He picked up his pace. Megatron hated tardiness. Megatron hated a lot of things.

Unicron, he wished he'd stayed on that pathetic third moon of that obscure little planet instead of answering Starscream's call to gather with the Decepticons on earth. Such an inconvenience it was, actually having to do fieldwork. He should have simply not answered and simply just stayed there.

It was an outrage, everything that he'd had to go through since coming to earth. Really! It had been one thing after another, and now it was down to getting mauled by non-sentient subway trains and derided by drones.

Outrage.

That was a feeling he could easily culture.

It would do nicely. He would be outraged when he showed up on the bridge before Lord Megatron. It would be outrage bordering on righteous indignation, not that the Decepticons really knew anything about righteousness, but they knew about indignation, and it would do.

He slipped through the doors and saw three drones in the way. They were standing at ease, looking half bored as Megatron spoke arrogantly before Dreadwing and Soundwave.

'_Blast and scrap those drones._' Knockout thought.

One of them saw him, and its visor seemed to brighten a little. The others turned, and then their visors brightened as well. Their mouths quirked a little, but they knew better than to laugh when Megatron was in the room.

Knockout hated it.

_Soundwave had been basking in his Lordship's temporary pleasure, empathetically drinking it in while listening to his words. Suddenly, though, he picked up a wave of amused delight from his drones that stood behind him. His sharp audio receptors picked up the sound of footsteps a split-second before Dreadwing's, and he turned quickly, sensing something of interest. _

Knockout gave the closest drone a shove for spite, nearly knocking him over, and stamped forward as he saw Megatron's optics land on him.

"Can you _believe_ what the Autobots did to me?" He yelled, sounding insulted and outraged. His tone held the perfect amount of indignation. As his optics met Megatron's, though, he knew Megatron didn't give a broken transistor what the Autobots had done to him. Megatron wanted his relic.

Perhaps disdain would have worked more effectively than outrage.

He realized as Megatron strode forward, though, that the tyrant actually looked relatively calm. Megatron must be in a good mood then. Well, relatively. Everything was relative where Megatron was concerned.

He would live.

He would try disdain next time.


End file.
